Page 74 of From Italy With Love

So I won’t stop.

I’ll keep pushing. Keep planning. Keep working toward the day when I can bring you home.

Even if it destroys me in the process.

Even if I become the monster everyone always feared I was.

You’re worth it.

You’ve always been worth it.

June 15th

Dearest Madigan,

I dreamed about you last night.

You were back in Montana. In our bed. The sun was coming through the windows, and you were lying next to me, your hair spread across the pillow, your hand on my chest. You were smiling. Really smiling. Happy. And then I woke up, and you were gone, and I was alone, and I wanted to scream.

I wanted to put my fist through the wall. I wanted to get in the car and drive to New York City and drag you out of that house by force.

But I didn’t. Because that’s not what you need.

What you need is for me to be smart. Strategic. Patient.

What you need is for me to dismantle the cage they’ve built around you so completely that there’s nothing left to keep you trapped.

So that’s what I’m doing, baby.

I’ve made contact with someone who might help. He’s agreed to meet with me. He thinks he has information that might help. It’s a start.

Small, but significant.

Every empire falls eventually. Every organization has a breaking point.

I just have to find the Society’s.

And then I have to push until it shatters.

Henry misses you. He doesn’t understand where you are or why you’re not here, but he knows something is missing. Sometimes he crawls to your side of the bed and just sits there, like he’s waiting for you to appear. It kills me every time.

I miss you too, baby. I miss you so much I don’t know how to function anymore.

I miss your voice. Your laugh. Your touch. I miss the way you used to look at me like I was the only person in the world who mattered. I miss making love to you. Miss the way your body felt against mine. Miss the sounds you made when I touched you.

I miss everything about you.

And I’m going to get you back.

I promise you that.

I’m going to bring you home.

July 13th

Our son is a year-old today, and you weren’t here to celebrate.

Fuck, I didn’t think I could hate you anymore, but damn you!